Browse all poems and songs in the 'Chicago Cubs' Category

Put a Ring on It

by Hilary Barta

One hundred wins won’t mean a thing
If the Cubs are sent home with no bling
If their fingers are bare
If no rings twinkle there
And, once more, we bemoan until Spring.



by Jim Siergey

A million Dad Ricketts gave Trump-kins
He must think the faithful are bumpkins
With timing that stinks
it’s a crime that might jinx
the Cubbies to turn into pumpkins.


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Backing Into the Title, or How the Clinch Stole Christmas

by Hilary Barta

The Cardinals lose, so Cubs win.
Should the party at Wrigley begin?
Or is making it rain
By spraying champagne
Committing a Cardinal sin?


The Ghost of Post-Seasons Past

by Hilary Barta

To October the Cubbies are cruising
But to homies the subject’s confusing
By fears we are daunted
For years we’ve been haunted
By knowing our club’s knack for losing.


See Cy Young

by Hilary Barta

Kyle Hendricks, no ace all a-glitter,
Ain’t trending on Facebook or Twitter,
So isn’t it strange
This wiz with the change
Contends for a late fall no-hitter?


AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

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AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.